Shadows of the Heart
by WolfWhoSingsToMoon
Summary: Yaoi, AU. There's nothing special about a replica. Nothing unique, or beautiful. Repliku has been reminded of this throughout his whole life, by everyone and everything. But what will happen when he meets someone just as alone as himself? AntiSora Repliku


**Author note- this is my first fanfic, and I had alot of fun writing this :3 I really like the idea of the AntiSora and Repliku (Riku Replica) together, and they don't really get enough love. So yah. I hope you enjoy this!**

Chapter 1—Repliku

The tall, silver haired boy stood out on the large balcony. His fingers were curled tightly around the railing as he stared silently out as the sun was rising. This was Repliku's most favorite part of the day—watching the dark sky slowly become less, watching as light cascaded across a dark blue sky, until everything was surrounded in light. There was nothing better, he thought.

He closed his eyes as a rush of cold wind blew into his face, silver hair moving out of calm, deep blue eyes. He opened his eyes again, and watched, smiling, as the sun slowly rose, causing the remnants of night to drift away. Hopefully, it would be another beautiful clear day.

"Master Riku-," Repliku turned his head slightly, frowning a little, to look at a flustered looking servant. "—I mean, Master Repliku." The servant swallowed hard, sweat starting to form on his forehead. "Your father requests your presence in the dining hall for breakfast." When Repliku turned to face him, the servant winced. "Will you ignore him again?"

Repliku ran a hand through his silver hair uneasily, letting out a heavy sigh, "No, no. Let him know I'll be there, alright?"

The servant hesitated slightly, then nodded.

"Yes, Master Repliku."

Repliku smiled softly at the servant, his expression and gaze gentle as he said, "Thank you."

Yet, even with no hostility in his voice or gaze, the servant still flinched and bowed one last time before hurrying out of the room.

Repliku's smile faded and he sighed heavily, running both hands through his hair in frustration. For a moment, he just stood there, watching the door, not moving an inch. A part of him hoped that no one would come, and he could stand there in solitude, as he did most mornings. But another part of him—a nagging, gnawing feeling—hoped that maybe, someone would.

He sighed heavy and he walked out from the cool air into the large, stuffy room. He closed the double doors quietly, putting the latch in place in order to keep them closed. He turned away from the French doors, and walked over to the large mahogany wardrobe. He pulled out a pair of blue pants and a yellow and white shirt.

_Just like him, _Repliku thought, smiling fakely as he held the shirt and pants in front of himself before the large, ceiling length mirror.

Repliku openly despised mirrors. He hated looking at his own reflection, because it only reminded him that his face—his eyes, his hair—his own face wasn't even his.

_Not that I'm not always reminded anyways, _Repliku thought, and he lay the shirt and pants across the door of the wardrobe. He began to unbutton the white night shirt, looking at his reflection with a fake smile.

He stared into his own eyes—into Master Riku's eyes—and noted every dark shadow in them.

_I wonder if you know, _he thought. He stared into his own eyes, imagining he was speaking to him, _how your father has replaced you with me._

His fake smile faltered slightly.

_I bet you know I'm a complete failure at being you._

Repliku let the nightshirt fall in a heap on the ground, so that he could look at himself. He stared at the red heart shaped scar on his chest, that stretched from one side to the other and came down nearly to his stomach. He placed his hand to it slowly, tracing the heart slightly with the tips of his fingers.

_This here, _he thought, _this is the one difference between the two of us. No matter how much we look alike, this here will always be the difference. _

The thought of that—of being different from the young master outwardly in some way—brought a small—yet real—smile to Repliku's face.

Repliku walked silently down the spiral staircase, running his hand along the smooth surface of the rail. His eyes scanned across the large opening room, where servants bustled about, dusting, vacuuming, cleaning. Sunlight filtered in through the open windows as the servants cleaned away the dust, the light doing a little dance across the large chandelier that hung over the room.

"Master Repliku?" Repliku turned to look at a small, mousy servant girl. She held a duster, and looked up at Repliku curiously from the bottom of the staircase. "Is something wrong?"

For a moment, Repliku just stared at the girl blankly, confused, when it dawned on him that for a moment, he had just been standing there, gazing up at the chandelier as the light danced across it.

His face flushed bright red in embarrassment, and he smiled weakly, "Eh, um, no, no. Nothing." Repliku descended the rest of the stairs to where he was face to face with the girl.

Even when he was this close, the girl was rather tiny. She had small, doll-like features, her hair short and black, her bangs falling into pretty blue eyes. She wore an apron over a green dress, her face smudged with dirt, yet even this could not ruin her beauty.

"Sorry," Repliku mumbled, "I'll just—I'll just get out of your way now." Repliku moved around the small girl, walking toward the door that led him to the dining hall.

"Master Repliku." Repliku stopped ad turned his head to look at the girl. She brushed a piece of black hair out of her eyes, hitting Repliku hard with the intensity of her blue gaze. "Miss Namine would like to see you today, as soon as possible. So after your meal with your father, I can arrange a car to take you to her home."

"Oh, um," Repliku was slightly caught off guard by the polite authority of her voice. Out of all the servants, she was the first who didn't stutter or flinch while speaking to him. "There's no need for that. I can just walk. But, thank you, for letting me know…?" He let his voice linger, as he did not know her name.

"Xion," the girl noted with a small bow, "And it's only my job, Master Repliku." She looked up at him, smiling politely, "Oh, but forgive me, I've kept you from your father longer than necessary. The Master is waiting."

"Right, right," Repliku mumbled, and he gave a small bow, "Thank you." With this, he turned and walked to the dining hall.

He opened the door slowly and looked in. A large dining table stretched from one end of the dining hall to the other, looking as if it could seat twenty, if not thirty, people. The walls were a deep maroon, the carpet black, and all around, the room was drenched in dark colors. Even with the red curtains tied back, the light of day couldn't reach the all corners of the room.

"Repliku." Repliku raised his head as his name was called. A man stood from his chair at the head of the table. His deep blue eyes that were set on Repliku were hollow, and his smile was forced, slightly pained. "Come in, come in." Repliku came in slowly, closing the door behind him.

Repliku walked slowly over to his seat beside his father. The room was dead silent; all that could be heard, was the slight rise and falls of Repliku's foot falls. He resisted the urge to fidget with his shirt or run his hand through his hair. As he grew closer, his father sat down, smiling, though it never reached his eyes.

It never did.

Repliku seated himself by the older gentleman was his father, turning his head slightly as two servants practically floated into the room. One paused at Repliku's shoulder, setting before him a large plate and an empty glass. She balanced a pitcher of orange juice in the crook of her arm, and she quickly grabbed it, pouring into the glass till it almost reached the top. He turned his head again, and watched as the second servant repeated this action for his father.

Quickly, almost in the same motion, the two came to stand side by side, bowing till they were at waist length, and standing straight again. Repliku watched as his father gave a small nod—more of a rising and dipping of the chin rather than an actual nod, Repliku thought—and the two servants turned, scurrying out of the dining hall. A silence fell over the two as the door swung closed behind the servants.

Repliku fidgeted slightly in his seat, and silverware clanked against china as he spooned his oatmeal. He stirred the oatmeal around with his spoon slowly, never raising it to his lips, just stirring as he cast a glance at his father.

His father was quiet, busily peeling at an orange, staring out the window distantly. His face was expressionless; Repliku couldn't even tell what he was thinking from his gaze.

This was how most things were in the Kasana Household, though, so Repliku had grown used to it.

_This is stupid… _Repliku thought, as he ate. The silence was long and lingering, uncomfortable. _I don't know why he continues to ask me to come down here… we never talk, it always ends like this. _He sighed, removing the spoon from his lips.

His father cleared his throat and Repliku jumped, looking up. "So, um, Repliku." His father forked together a couple of eggs and picked them off his plate, "How've your studies been recently?"

"Fine," Repliku mumbled, nibbling on a piece of bacon. He wanted nothing more than to disappear. "Larxene has been teaching me how to fight. Though, she can be pretty ruethless sometimes…"

His father smirked a little, "She IS Larxene, of course."

"Yah."

Another long, awkward silence fell over the two as Repliku nibbled on the last of his bacon.

"So, Repliku," His father began slowly, "there's something I wanted to tell you—"

Repliku rose to his feet, pushing the chair back. "I have to get going now." His father looked up at him, his eye brows raised.

"You just got here, what's the rush?" He asked, as Repliku chugged down the orange juice. Repliku quickly wiped his mouth.

"Sorry, but Namine wants to see me, as soon as possible she said," he mumbled, setting the glass carefully on the table. "I'm really sorry, but you know I can't ignore Namine…"

His father nodded slowly. "I understand."

"That's good," Repliku said, rather awkwardly, "I'll… um, I'll just be going." Repliku turned and began to walk away.

"Repliku." Repliku paused and turned. His father wiped his mouth with his napkin, laying it across his plate. "I need you to return to the house at supper. I have something I'd like to give you."

Repliku blinked and turned to look at his father. "What is it?"

His father smiled a little, his eyes twinkling, "you'll see. Just be here at supper, alright?"

"O…okay," Repliku mumbled, confused. With his mind still spinning, he turned and began to leave.

The silver haired young man passed by the window, unaware of the golden eyes upon him from outside. The eyes watched him, watched his deep blue gaze stare distantly forward, his silver hair shining slightly in the sunlight. The golden eyes blinked, as the blue haired figure beside him cast a glance toward him.

"You think you're ready for this?" the person huffed. The owner of the golden eyes looked at him, then away.

The golden eyed figure looked up at the home, into the widow, but by now, the young man was gone from view.

He nodded, a fake smile appearing on his blank face. "Yes. I am certain."


End file.
